True love and other lies
by appletea
Summary: Travel writer kamiya kaoru kissed enough frogs and snakes and toads  to know, without a shadow of doubt that fate, love at first sight and 'the one' does not exist. so when she ends up sitting next to kenshin she begin to believe that she met 'the one'..


I am kamiya kaoru.

Currently single and not available.

Because instead of partying and meeting up with someone on a Saturday night, I am rolling my eyes and waiting for my turn to board the plane.

At a not so young age of twenty-eight. I've learned enough about the world to develop a well-established set of personal rules by which I live my life. Here is the first one: The whole concept of a one true love who completes your soul is total bullshit.

I don't mean love in general, like duh- I love my parents, a few assorted friends, and Dani the Persian cat I had when I was growing up. I'm talking about the fairy tale, prince charming, marriage as a happy ending, and love at first sight kind of thing. As far as I am concerned, that is a brand of snake oil concocted by the online dating and wedding industries for the sole purpose of bilking millions of unsuspecting women out of their hard earned money. Maybe it's because I don't have any role models to look to who've actually sustained long-term love, much less successful marriages. My parents and most of my friend's parents were of the generation who believed strongly in the power of divorce and remarriage as an alternative to buying a sports car when in the midst of a midlife crisis.

Ya call me cynical or jaded or even a little bitter and I wont argue with you. It's not as though I arrive at my philosophy on love when I was thirteen and still thought I was going to marry josh harnett. No, it took years and years of bad dates, horrible setups, and one real bastard of an ex boyfriend for me to come to my senses.

Which is why I never imagined I would meet someone on an airplane. I mean how random would that be? After all, in real life, lovers are not bought together by a quirk of fate, or by some random act that realigns the universe; most people who get together meet through friend or work or something equally mundane, those syrupy tales of two halves of one heart reuniting are just Hollywood fairy tales, usually starring meg Ryan, and marketed to women in my age gender and marital status demographic. But I have always refused to buy into the hype, just as I refuse to transform my pin straight hair to Meg's adorably scruffy sally hershberger- designed coif.

So when I boarded the American airline flight from New York to London, my battered old knapsack slung over my shoulder, the last thing I was expecting was romance. In fact, I was fully prepared for a boring, six hour trip full of bad food and uncomfortable seats, and if experience was any guide- a small child sitting behind me, screaming the whole way.

I snagged a window seat, and was glad that I only had to share one armrest. I had desperately hoped to get upgraded to business class- that Shangri-la for travelers, with it's cushy seats, free drinks, and plentiful armrests- but the same grouchy airline employee who wouldn't give me a seat in the emergency exit row certainly had no interest whatsoever in upgrading me (he'd been far more accommodating to the Ricky martin look-alike who'd been ahead of me in line, I'd noted). I was relieved when a middle-aged woman wearing a pashmina shawl and carrying a thick paperback sat in the empty seat next to me. I usually get seated next to obese man who have personal odor problems and who snore so loudly they actually drowned the roar of jet engines. This woman tended in the other direction- as thin as a greyhound and marinated in obsession perfume- but still, a definite improvement, or so I thought.

Shortly after take off, the woman began twisting around to whine to her husband, who was sitting directly behind he, about how her back was hurting her and why couldn't the airlines provide orthopedic pillows, and how could he forget to pack his blue jacket, and why hadn't the airline honored her request to sit next to an empty seat so she could stretch out during the flight, and had she known they were going to stick someone next to her, she would rather seat next to her husband.

"Calm down" I told myself "it is not good to create a scene in such convicted space"

Considering her tone, her husband's weary answers, I cant help but begin to suspect that her husband had lucked out by not having to sit next to her it was probably the first peace and quiet he'd had since marrying her (not that she showed any intention of leaving him alone to enjoy it) on her third go-round, this time lodging a complaint on the too cold temperature (which for god's sake understandable cause we are in the sky) of the airplane, I heard the man sitting behind me offer to trade places with her so that she and her husband could sit together.

"Oh thank you. We would have booked our seats together, but I was supposed to have an empty seat next to me. But they sat this woman here " she said, her voice laced with self righteous indignation, as she shot me a dirty look which I happily returned, it is a skill that I could win a gold medal in and I have been told that my signature dirty look is quite intimidating. Amidst dreaming about my miss- dirty-looks gold medal (as wrong as it sounds) Mrs. pointy elbow averted her eyes and stopped complaining, and took on a laborious process of gathering her things together while this guy was standing in the aisle, waiting patiently for her to finally clear out of what was now his seat.

To my utmost surprise, fate took on a change and actually presented me with a very hot and cute guy. I hadn't noticed him in the airport lounge when we were waiting to board and to which I wonder why, he is actually someone who is pretty hard to miss. He is not really tall and lanky to my relief (I could not stand the idea of having to stand on a chair every time we kissed) he had a perfect symmetrical face with to die for lips long, a sharp nose, long eyelashes and endless pools of amethyst eyes. With long hair tied back into a high ponytail and shorter bangs framing his face, this had got to be the most beautiful man I ever seen. Which makes it worst because first I am a girl, and two I am about to melt into a pool of green bubbling slime with jealousy.

But it wasn't until he smiled at the woman as she thanked him for changing seats with her that I was struck by how appealing he really was- his smile lit up his whole face, his grin was open and genuine, his eyes crinkling pleasantly. It had startled me how I had responded to his smile because my heart seems to be pounding harder by the second. And how flushed my face was when he looked at me and smiled that smile.


End file.
